


All Things Considered

by heisenfox



Series: The Journey Home [3]
Category: The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Coda, Inspired by Novel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heisenfox/pseuds/heisenfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 690:</p><p>"...But this is all beside the point. The point is, I never told you how yesterday went, seeing as I never made a log yesterday. Long story short, I fucked up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Considered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamonmagick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonmagick/gifts).



LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 690

Okay, okay. I’m officially a liar. A Lying Liar who Lies. I said I’d see you “tomorrow,” which was, in fact, yesterday. Sorry, NASA log techs. Sorry, everyone else on Earth reading or watching or listening to this somehow and for whatever reason. News-flash -- I, Mark Watney, am a human being. I know, I know. Illusion shattered; for a minute, I thought I was Superman, too. But, hey! If Mark Watney, Lord of Space can tell a white lie or miss an appointment, you can sure do it, too! Wait...that’s probably not a good message for me to send, right, NASA overlords? Ignore that last statement.

Dear young people of Earth: this is King of Mars, Space Pirate, and All Around Good Guy, Mark Watney, here to tell you -- lying is bad. Very Bad. Don’t do it. That’s better, right guys?

Anyway, I’m sure you’re all _extremely_ curious as to how my space-stalking went with Dr. Hot Stuff…that’s Dr. Beck to those of you who missed our little chat a couple of days ago. I don’t know why I’m acting like this is a podcast you’re all hearing in real-time. By the time you all read or listen to or watch this log entry, I’ll be back firmly on the face of the Earth, and Beck will have decided once and for all if he’s receptive to my smooth moves. Hell, by the time you guys get to experience this, we might have already dated and broken up. After all, we’ve got a bit of a trip back home to look forward to, and there’s not exactly a ton of date-like activity to do on a spaceship. We could see if Lewis has any shitty tv on here, I guess. I’ll take _anything_ as long as I never have to hear another note of disco music again.

But this is all beside the point. The point is, I never told you how yesterday went, seeing as I never made a log yesterday. Long story short, I fucked up.

I underestimated the injury to my ribs, and spent too much time in the rec room; here’s the thing about the rec room, the gym, the kitchen, and even most of the bunks: they’re the rooms that have gravity regulators. Essentially, those rooms mimic the gravity forces of Earth, to keeps us as acclimated as possible so that, upon our return, we don’t suffer too much while trying to adjust to the actual Earth. But when you’ve got two broken ribs in a severely emaciated body that hasn’t had proper nutrition -- and has, frankly, become too used to strong painkillers that became necessary in my final days on Mars -- gravity is not your friend.

Beck had suggested, upon first inspection, that I spend most of my time in the areas of the ship that were in 0G, just to give my body a break; think of it like when you climb in a hot tub at the end of a long day. Your body just sort of floats, and the pain in your body slowly ebbs away. 0G is a lot like that, minus the warmth. So, really, I should’ve listened. But after a year and a half of self-diagnosing and self-treating, I was too used to doing whatever the fuck I pleased. And off to the rec room I went. It was a couple of hours before I noticed the pain, seeing as I spent the rest of the time with my feet in Beck’s lap as we watched some idiotic movie Martinez had on his data drive. At first, it was just a dull throb, and I was able to ignore it; I’d just survived worse. I mean, pre-Mars, papercuts made me their bitch. Now? I’m pretty sure a _stab_ wound would barely faze me.

So, of course, by the time I realized what was going on and where I’d gone wrong, I was in so much pain I could barely speak and couldn’t move at all. Needless to say, Beck _panicked_. Well, everyone panicked. My body sort of froze suddenly and I guess I let out some sort of shriek before just totally passing out and falling off the couch, which, graceful, Mark. That’s sure to get Beck interested. Anyway, Martinez and Vogel lifted me onto the coffee table and Beck went into full on crisis mode, literally ripping my shirt off and yelling a bunch of instructions.

Lewis won’t let me watch the surveillance of the incident because she’s worried it’ll freak me out; she even went as far as password protecting it, and god knows I can’t get Johanssen to hack it for me. She’ll do a lot of things for me, but going directly against the Commander is not one of them. So I only know the bare details Martinez and Vogel have seen fit to share, and what Beck has declared to be my diagnosis. Apparently, the amount of excess time I spent in the rooms with gravity regulators negated any and all time I spent in 0Gs -- especially since I spent almost no time at all in 0Gs.

By doing this, my broken ribs came dangerously close to piercing my lungs in two places, and another spot almost broke the skin. Did I mention I’m dangerously emaciated? Yeah, turns out living on quarter rations and potatoes for a year and a half really sucks the life out of you. I’ve been ordered by Dr. Bossy to spend more time in 0G, including all of my meals, which will now be brought to me as I float around, and I can only spend a half an hour in the rec room. Since I need to sleep in the bunks that have the gravity regulators, my “day” time gravity hours are drastically cut short.

You may be wondering why I don’t sound entirely depressed about this; well, dear audience, there is a very, very pretty silver lining. Dr. Bossy Beck doesn’t trust me to follow his rules on my own, so he’s going to be spending every waking hour at my side, even when I’m confined to 0Gs. That’s right, guys -- I’m looking at a few weeks of a lot of one-on-one time with Dr. Pretty Boy. For once, Mars has done me a favor.

I guess, all things considered, you’re not a terrible wingman, Mars. I might even consider forgiving you for everything else someday.

Watney out.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I can't get Mark Watney out of my damn head. Sorry if this isn't as good as the first one, or if it's downright awful! Constructive criticism is always nice, praise is even nicer, and please point out any typos or anything of the like! This is self-beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoyed it at least!
> 
> EDIT: I thought it was blatantly obvious, but apparently not, so here it is: **_suspension of disbelief is your friend._** I do not claim to understand space science/tech, and you should not take anything in here as fact. In case you weren't aware of this either: this is a work of **_fiction._** If you don't have anything better to do than nitpick science in a story that is about made-up people in a made-up scenario, do it somewhere else, please.


End file.
